My IQ has been increasing year by year.

The stairwells of the Sunshine Family Compound are perpetually filled with the lingering smell of coal smoke, mingled with the aroma of scallions, ginger, and garlic from each household's evening meals. Chen Jianguo walks ahead on the stairs.

He was wrapped in a somewhat worn military overcoat and carried Chen Zhuo's suitcase. He walked steadily, his broad back blocking most of the cold wind blowing in from the stairwell. Chen Zhuo carried only a light backpack, his hands in his pockets, and quietly followed behind his father upstairs.

Aunt Wang, who lived on the second floor, was picking celery at the door with a sieve. Seeing the father and son coming upstairs, she paused, then immediately broke into a wide smile. "Oh, Jianguo, you've picked up your little Zhuo?"

Aunt Wang wiped her hands on her apron and leaned forward to look at Chen Zhuo following behind her.

"Haven't seen him for half a year, this college student looks so energetic, and has he grown even taller?"

"It was almost an hour late, and the train station was packed with people; I almost couldn't squeeze out."

Chen Jianguo lifted his suitcase higher and replied with a smile, his tone revealing an undisguised pride.

"Aunt Wang, are you making dumplings? We're going upstairs first; it's quite windy in the hallway."

"Aunt Wang," Chen Zhuo greeted her as well.

"Hey! Hurry back, hurry back, your mom was still nagging about it in the yard this morning."

We arrived at the fourth floor.

The security door on the left wasn't closed properly; there was a gap.

The kitchen was filled with the deafening roar of the range hood and the sound of a cleaver slamming against the cutting board.

Chen Jianguo pushed open the door, placed the heavy suitcase on the living room floor, and let out a long sigh of relief.

He took off his hat and shouted towards the kitchen:

"Xiuying, the person is back!"

A warm, white steam, carrying the rich aroma of braised pork ribs, wafted right towards my face.

Chen Zhuo changed into slippers at the door.

The sound of chopping meat stopped.

Liu Xiuying didn't even have time to take off her apron before she hurried out of the kitchen.

She completely ignored Chen Jianguo, who was taking off his coat beside her, and fixed her gaze on Chen Zhuo, looking him up and down before her brows immediately furrowed. "Why are you dressed so lightly? Aren't you cold at the exit?"

As Liu Xiuying spoke, she reached out to take the backpack from Chen Zhuo's back.

"I didn't get cold. My dad just took off his coat and covered me with it as we went out."

Chen Zhuo didn't move, obediently letting Liu Xiuying put her bag aside.

"Your hands are covered in water and oil; you'll have to wash the bag again."

"You've lost weight."

Liu Xiuying didn't care about anything else. She pinched Chen Zhuo's arm twice with her still wet hands, her face full of heartache.

"Is your USTC cafeteria reluctant to put meat in their food? Or are you so stressed from studying that you've drained your brain?"

Chen Zhuo smiled and casually made a joke.

"I do have some meat, but I estimate that all the nutrients I've consumed in the past six months have gone into my brain and nervous system, so I haven't had time to gain weight."

Liu Xiuying rolled her eyes at him.

"Stop talking nonsense. Hurry up and go back inside and put your things down. There's hot water in the kettle. Ask your dad to pour it for you. The ribs will be ready soon."

After saying that, she hurriedly went into the kitchen, and the range hood started making a loud noise again.

Chen Jianguo walked over carrying a china tea mug and handed Chen Zhuo a cup of freshly prepared warm water.

"Have some water, then go inside and tidy up."

Chen Zhuo pulled his suitcase into his bedroom.

The room was spotless; there wasn't a speck of dust on the table. His old textbooks and test papers were neatly stacked on the top shelf. Chen Zhuo squatted down, took out a few changes of clothes from his suitcase, threw them on the bed, and then pulled out three thick, brick-like tomes from the bottom. The covers were covered in curvilinear Russian letters.

Chen Jianguo glanced at the books.

"Textbooks issued by the school?"

"no."

Chen Zhuo moved the book to the desk and patted the dust off the cover.

"I borrowed these extracurricular books from the library myself. I just flipped through them since I had nothing to do during the Chinese New Year."

Chen Jianguo nodded.

He didn't interfere with Chen Zhuo's studies, since he couldn't understand them anyway.

"Alright, come out for dinner when you're ready." Chen Jianguo straightened up. "Your mom's been planning what to cook for you since the last couple of days." "Okay."

After dinner, it was completely dark outside.

Occasionally, one or two crisp firecracker sounds could be heard in the family compound.

Chen Zhuo was sitting at his desk, opening the Russian book he had borrowed.

The security door was slammed shut with a deafening roar.

There's no need to guess who it is.

Liu Xiuying went to open the door, and as soon as the door opened a crack, a round figure squeezed in.

Zhang Qiang has grown quite a bit taller, but his horizontal growth hasn't slowed down at all.

He was wearing a bulky dark blue down jacket and a woolen hat, hissing and gasping for breath from the cold.

"Hello, Auntie!"

Zhang Qiang shouted with great energy, then craned his neck to look inside.

"Where's Chen Zhuo? Has he returned yet?"

"I'm inside. Why are you running in such a hurry? Come in and have some hot water."

"I'm not drinking anymore, Auntie!"

Zhang Qiang, familiar with the place, pushed open the door to Chen Zhuo's bedroom and slipped inside in a flash.

Hearing the noise, Chen Zhuo turned his chair around.

"Great job, Brother Zhuo!"

Zhang Qiang slapped Chen Zhuo on the shoulder, his eyes shining.

"Haven't seen you for half a year. Have you been enjoying a good life in Huizhou? You look much better than when you left."

"You don't eat as well as I do."

Chen Zhuo glanced at Zhang Qiang's stomach.

"Your down jacket's zipper is almost impossible to zip up."

"This is called making money, okay? My dad says I'm the lucky one."

Zhang Qiang nonchalantly took off his hat and threw it on the bed, then moved closer to Chen Zhuo's desk.

He immediately noticed the massive, all-Russian book spread out on the table.

Zhang Qiang stared at the endless formulas and incomprehensible letters on the pages, his brows slowly furrowing.

"What's this?" Zhang Qiang pointed. "English? It doesn't look like it. It looks like talismans."

"Russian."

"Can you understand it?"

Zhang Qiang gasped, looking at Chen Zhuo as if he were an alien.

"It's a bit of a guessing game," Chen Zhuo said casually. "The main thing is to look at the formulas in the middle; the text is just supplementary explanation."

Zhang Qiang shook his head and pulled over a stool next to him to sit down.

"abnormal."

Zhang Qiang gave a brief and fair assessment.

"I struggle to recognize even the 26 letters of the English alphabet individually, let alone when they're put together. And you, on the other hand, have gone straight into Russian." Chen Zhuo closed the Russian book and pushed it to a corner of the desk.

He turned around, crossed his hands on his knees, and looked at his childhood friend whom he hadn't seen for six months.

Zhang Qiang is in the first year of junior high school.

He was going through puberty and had a hoarse voice.

"How was junior high?" Chen Zhuo asked casually.

"That's just how it is. I get up earlier than the chickens and go to bed later than the dogs every day. Our homeroom teacher, Old Zhao, teaches math like he's chanting a mantra. I don't know why, but he always picks on me to answer questions and keeps staring at me. I haven't done anything to offend him."

Zhang Qiang began to launch into a long, drawn-out rant about all sorts of trivial matters at school: which boy got into a fight and was publicly reprimanded, which girl received a love letter and had her parents called in. Chen Zhuo listened quietly, nodding occasionally.

After Zhang Qiang finished speaking, he picked up the water glass on Chen Zhuo's table and took a big gulp.

"You just finished your first semester final exams last week, right?"

Chen Zhuo looked at him and asked a perfectly ordinary question.

"How did the exam go?"

The voice just fell.

Zhang Qiang, who was still excited, suddenly felt as if someone had grabbed his neck.

The water glass in his hand stopped in mid-air.

The smile on her face vanished instantly, and her eyes began to dart around the ceiling, the floor, and every corner under the bed, avoiding looking at Chen Zhuo. Suddenly, she fell silent.

The room was quiet for a few seconds.

"I wish...that..."

Zhang Qiang stammered twice, scratched the back of his head, and looked around.

"Oh, don't mention that!"

Zhang Qiang abruptly changed the subject and slammed his water glass down.

He glanced furtively towards the door to make sure Liu Xiuying wasn't nearby, then mysteriously unzipped his down jacket and pulled something wrapped in layers of plastic from an inside pocket. "Look at this."

Zhang Qiang untied the knot in the plastic bag.

The box was packed full of seven or eight boxes of red and green Black Spider firecrackers, with several Thunder Kings as thick as half a carrot underneath. "Just got some really good stuff from Old Li's convenience store."

Zhang Qiang's eyes lit up again, and he instantly forgot about the crisis he had just faced regarding his grades.

"Let's go, let's go, let's go down to the flower bed and blow up that tin can. I'm going to blow that broken can up to the third floor today." Zhang Qiang stood up and grabbed Chen Zhuo's arm without saying a word.

Chen Zhuo looked at Zhang Qiang, who seemed eager to rush downstairs immediately.

He didn't inquire about the exact score on the report card, nor did he put on airs or lecture Zhang Qiang about the importance of studying hard and how frivolous pursuits could ruin one's life. Chen Zhuo simply smiled helplessly, flicked his wrist, and accurately tossed the pencil in his hand into the pencil holder on the corner of the table.

"Okay, let's go."

Chen Zhuo stood up with Zhang Qiang's help.

"But let's make this clear first."

Chen Zhuo reached behind the door and took the cotton coat, putting it on while looking at Zhang Qiang.

"If you do what you did last year—light it up, throw it carelessly, and it falls into the sewer, splashing you with mud—I'm not lending you any pants to change into." "Bullshit! What a joke!"

Zhang Qiang seemed to have been greatly insulted, and he pulled Chen Zhuo out.

"My current throwing accuracy and detonation lead are meticulously calculated! It's absolutely pinpoint the exact location!"

"Auntie, Chen Zhuo and I are going downstairs to play for a while!"

Zhang Qiang shouted towards the kitchen, pushed open the security door, and rushed out.

Chen Zhuo followed behind and closed the door behind him.

The cold wind blew on my face, and the streetlights in the residential compound were dim and yellowish.

Zhang Qiang was making a lot of noise ahead, searching for a suitable target, holding a Lei Wang cigarette in his hand, and looking around for bricks and soda cans.

Chen Zhuo followed slowly behind, his hands tucked into the pockets of his cotton coat.

Above him was a night sky with hardly any stars visible in Zeyang.

In the distance, someone set off a firework in advance, which exploded in mid-air with a bang, creating a cluster of red and green sparks.

Across the ocean.

The storm at the Institute for Advanced Study in Princeton, sparked by two pages of PDF data—a storm powerful enough to shake China—is intensifying. The astonishment of the scholars and professors staring at the screen, and the solemn email awaiting a reply on the server—all of this has nothing to do with the everyday life unfolding before us.

Chen Zhuo stepped on the dry leaves on the ground, listening to the sound of Zhang Qiang running away with his ears covered after lighting firecrackers not far away.

"Bang!"

A muffled thud.

Chen Zhuo looked at the mud splattered in the flower bed and gently exhaled a breath of white air.